


Won't let go

by tveckling



Series: Fuck Sisyphus [3]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Protective Ares, Psychological Trauma, but there are definitely feelings Ares isn't aware of yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 07:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30102558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: The death-drought had been going on for far too long, in Ares’ opinion. In the beginning, he'd decided to be patient, wait it out, and see what happened. But now he was more than tired of it. If none of the chthonic gods was going to do something about finding Thanatos and demanding an explanation, then someone else had to do it. And Ares had just decided he had time to spare.
Relationships: Ares/Thanatos (Hades Video Game)
Series: Fuck Sisyphus [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186127
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	Won't let go

**Author's Note:**

> Were he to really exist, Sipyhus would have lived somewhere around 14th century BCE, so that's when this fic takes place. Just so you all know o/
> 
> And yes, I will jump madly between time periods in this series. Tho this will be the oldest, and plenty of others will be happening during the game, some around the time of the first fic and some after. Just. There is not that much happening in chronological order, is what I'm saying lol.  
> Also, in this fic there will be MegThanZag with platonic MegThan, plus eventual AresThan because I love that ship just as much as the trio.

Yet another mortal nearby fell to the ground in pain as he got stabbed, but Ares only sighed in frustration and looked over the battlefield. The man wasn't going to die. None of them were. They could be stabbed, cut, ripped into pieces, even—he'd tried that once, personally, just to see if it might work. But, no. Nothing did. No one could die.

Throwing an attacking soldier out of his way, Ares walked off the battlefield, his existence disappearing from all soldiers' memories. His hand settled on his sword hilt as he thought. Recently he'd begun hearing rumors, whispers finding their way up from the underworld. Whispers about Thanatos, and how he'd disappeared. That would certainly explain why things had gotten so strange—and frustrating. After all, what use was war if no one could die?

The death-drought had been going on for far too long, in Ares’ opinion. In the beginning, he'd decided to be patient, wait it out, and see what happened. But now he was more than tired of it. If none of the chthonic gods was going to do something about finding Thanatos and demanding an explanation, then someone else had to do it. And Ares had just decided he had time to spare. Maybe none of his brethren felt they were particularly affected by what was going on, but he simply couldn't abide by it any longer.

Something had to be done.

First thing, he had to find Thanatos. The dark god was one of his favorite associates, even if he sometimes bored Ares with his insistence on making his mortal victims' passing as peaceful and painless as possible. He was always dreadfully polite, even to those Olympians who scorned him—but Ares had seen and taken great delight in those few times badly hidden disdain shone in those golden eyes. The God of Death could, and one day would, claim them all—and he knew it. It was his life's work, what he had been born to do, and it positively thrilled Ares to think about.

Such a god would never ditch his work on purpose.

"Hermes!" Ares called, putting a touch of divinity into his voice. "I need a moment of your time."

"Hey, bro! What's up, do you need a message sent?"

The messenger floated next to him, curiously looking Ares over. Lucky for him Ares had gotten used to his abrupt appearances many lifetimes earlier, or he might have ended up with a sword in his gut. Not that that would have had any effect at the moment.

"I have a request for you, brother. After all your dealings with the Underworld, I'm sure you have plenty of contacts down there; I would ask you to see if anyone can find out where Thanatos was last seen, or what his last assignment was before he disappeared."

Hermes hummed and floated forward a few feet. Then, he turned back to Ares and snapped his fingers. "Shouldn't be a problem, boss! I'll run down there quick and see about getting some information, I'm sure someone will know. Anything to help fix this awful, awful situation. Be back in a jiffy!"

Between one heartbeat and the next Hermes was gone. Ares looked back towards the mortals still fighting, drunk on his bloodlust. They didn't even think about the mortality they'd been denied, only saw it as an opportunity to keep fighting. Normally he'd be delighted by the mindless beasts they'd become, but now they bored him.

Sighing, he shifted back to Olympus. Hermes would know where to find him, once he had gathered the information Ares wanted.

All around him gods and their elevated followers partied, or enjoyed the splendors of the eternal paradise, or enjoyed each other. Just a normal day on Olympus. They were all relaxed, carefree, unbothered by what was going on on the surface, as they always were. Only Artemis and her nymphs' presences were missing—must have sought peace and quiet in some forest on the surface, likely.

A few naiads drifted toward him, but he waved them away and continued towards his own temple. At least there he would be able to send away his followers, so he could wait for Hermes undisturbed.

When he crossed the bridge leading to his island, however, he saw Hermes floating in front of his temple, more comfortable than anyone Ares had ever seen. With a raised eyebrow he thought that he really should stop being surprised about anything his godly youngest brother did.

"What did you find out?" he asked without any preamble when he got close enough.

Hermes turned around in the air and propped his chin on his hand. "There's a bit of chaos down there, so many souls trying to get to the surface, thinking that they can have a chance to live an immortal life among their own kind. It's truly a mess, we should all feel sorry for the gods and their staff, they're all so terribly busy."

"About Thanatos, Hermes."

"Ah, yes, I was coming right up on that, trust me. According to my questioning Thanatos' last assignment was this Ephyrian king, Sisyphus, who's been causing trouble with dad, big, big trouble, I must say, the kind that really doesn't end in anything good—disturbing one of dad's dalliances. Heh. Anyway, that was the last of his known jobs, and he never did deliver Sisyphus to Hades for judgment, so one might consider the fact that something must have happened over in Ephyra, no?"

Ares nodded, trying to remember what he knew of the king in trouble. "Yes, on that I agree. It seems a most suspicious coincidence."

Hermes flashed a smile. "Well then! You seem to be ready to handle the rest of the situation, so I'll be on my way. Got much to do, places to go, messages to deliver, you know how it is, even if there are no souls to usher along there is still so much to do. You know how to reach me if you need me!"

And then he was gone. Not that Ares noticed, deep in his thoughts as he was.

Sisyphus. He knew that mortal. Avoided war, but seemed to delight in inviting and killing those who could pose a problem to his rule. The violent deaths had caught his attention a few times, for sure. From what he knew this particular human was a particularly cunning one, too, who would do anything to protect himself and his position. Yes, he could certainly imagine the good-natured Death falling for his trickery.

Olympus held no interest to him now. With a last look toward the main island, he shifted. He hadn't yet visited Ephyra in person, but he had watched the bloodshed taking place a few times, so he used Sisyphus as his focal point. When he found himself outside a rather pompous-looking palace—with no Sisyphus in sight—he huffed a sigh in annoyance.

"Halt, intruder! This is the King's grounds, how did you get in here?"

With a bored look, Ares looked at the soldiers pointing their spears at him. Silly mortal antics. He simply raised an eyebrow and watched as they took in his appearance. The night's darkness couldn't hide how their faces quickly drained of blood. Even if he was in a form humans could stand looking at his aura was always gathered around him, visible unless he willed it otherwise, and any human gazing upon him should be able to understand his divinity. Soldiers, under his and Athena's command, even more so.

And, as he expected, immediately the human guards fell to their knees, bowing their heads. He could tell they would fall under his sister, but that didn't matter as long as they did as he wanted.

"I would know where your king is," Ares said, tapping his sword hilt.

The guards quickly exchanged glances and the one whose armor singled him out as the captain swallowed audibly. "He's… in the courtyard, my Lord. Entertaining guests."

"Hoh… I suppose my appearance might have spared a few lives, then. You are free to go back to your posts."

Their relief was palpable as they swiftly got to their feet, and Ares spent a moment to observe them with amusement. Clearly, they would rather let the God of Bloodlust visit their king than try to defend him. It was a smart choice—not a brave or loyal one. That's why they belonged to Athena, he supposed.

He only had to take a few steps before he could hear the sounds of festivity, and a pang of annoyance flashed inside him at how remarkably similar it sounded like the revelry of the Olympians. And as he came upon the mortals in question, his annoyance deepened. It wasn't normal guests, he could tell. Torches revealed how nobles in their best clothes filled the yard, with slaves running in and out of the buildings to service whatever whim they had. There was no bloodlust felt anywhere, and he recalculated his earlier assumption.

Under one of the pillared torches, conversing with what looked like a couple of academics, stood the man Ares had come to see. Stately, dressed in clothes made of even finer fabric and colors than the rest, a diadem of gold upon his head. Immediately as he saw him Ares knew he had made the right decision in coming there. The unmistakable aura of Death still surrounded the mortal king, even if it was faint. Thanatos had come to visit him, and then he had gone missing. Ares could feel in his gut that Sisyphus had something to do with his disappearance.

Without a word, he stepped down the small set of stairs, and let his aura flow freely. Before he had taken another step the silence had begun spreading among the humans, and satisfaction warmed him as eyes quickly lowered, the air trembling with their growing fear. Mortals should know their place when facing a God, as was only proper, and he was more than ready to punish whoever didn't show him the deference he deserved.

But in the end, he only had eyes for the one touched by Death. 

"Leave," he ordered, his voice reverberating through the silence, filling the courtyard and buildings of the palace alike. Only moments later the mass of people began moving, pushing each other to get out quicker—though they all kept a frightened distance to Ares as he continued forward. It was typical mortal behavior, to sacrifice others in the bid to save yourself. Ares had always found it quite amusing and enjoyed playing human against human for precisely that reason.

Over by the pillar, he could see Sisyphus begin to move as well, surely hoping to sneak out hidden by his guests. The patience Ares had was already tested after months of his wars being ruined, and there was no way he was going to even entertain this human's attempt to escape him. Like with a whip he lashed out with his power, breaking the tiles in front of Sisyphus' feet and making the king throw himself backward.

"You," he said, taking a step closer, "are not going anywhere,  _ King. _ "

To his credit, Sisyphus clearly understood he couldn't escape. He stayed in place, though Ares could see his eyes shifting as he thought. Surely tried to convince himself that Ares was there for some reason not connected to Death's absence, or trying to think of some way to divert his attention. Foolishness.

The courtyard, as well the whole palace, was empty, Ares sensed. He stopped a few steps away from the human, studying him. His head was bowed the moment Ares came close enough, but there was no actual feeling of deference behind his position.

"You are Lord… Ares, yes? What can your humble servant do for you, my Lord?"

Trickery, then. Pretending he had done no wrong, that he couldn't possibly know what Ares wanted from him. Ares held his sword tighter, pushing down his desire to ram it through this mortal thinking he could pull a god along as he wished. He had gotten a too large ego, after thinking he bested the King of Gods as well as Death himself.

"You will tell me where you are hiding him."

Only thanks to how he kept staring at the mortal, only through the light the many sources of bright fire provided, did Ares see the minute flinch, and had he had even a sliver of doubt it was erased. The calm, seemingly genuinely confused tone didn't fool him. "Him, my Lord? My deepest apologies, but I'm afraid I don't know who you are referring to."

Fury brewed in him, and Ares let his presence grow, surrounding Sisyphus with deafening screams, watching the mortal king fall to his knees in pain, his crown clattering to the stone. Ares took a step closer, and though his voice was low it cut through the air like a blade. "I know who you are,  _ mortal, _ and I know what you have done, so I would advise you  _ not _ to try and take me for a fool. I have nowhere near the same level of kindness as that Thanatos shows your kind, and I do not take well to someone trying to trick me. Take me to him,  _ now, _ or I shall let you feel the full might of my wrath for the rest of the eternal life you have managed to steal."

Sisyphus was frozen, and Ares could taste his fear on his tongue. He pulled back his presence to its normal level, giving the mortal king some measure of reprieve. But his patience would not let him wait long, and he was sure Sisyphus knew it. He was sure Sisyphus knew his play had been seen through, as well.

"... I understand perfectly, my Lord. Please forgive my transgression. I… please follow me."

Watching as Sisyphus got back up on his feet, Ares then followed him into the main building, through room after room, until they came to an inconspicuous door mostly hidden by hanging greenery. Sisyphus must have seen his glare because he hurriedly retrieved a small key from inside his clothes. Bending under the greenery he put the key in the lock and opened the door. Ares followed him inside, his eyes narrowing as he took in the room.

It was small and dark, with no windows to let in a single source of light. Ares crossed his arms while Sisyphus lit the small oil lamp sitting on the table next to the door. There wasn't much in the room, he saw then. Some shelves with various trinkets, a few chests, a couple of weapon stands—and that was it.

His anger was growing the more time Sisyphus wasted, the longer it took to lead him to the god he was searching for. He could feel it reach out, slipping into the head and under the skin of nearby mortals. Could feel them reacting, even hear screaming and fighting begin somewhere close-by. He didn't care.

"Where is he?" Ares asked slowly through clenched jaws, ready to rip the human apart.

The red-hot anger pouring from him shattered in a moment, turning into something cold and terrible when he saw Sisyphus glance at the chest in the northwest corner. That couldn't be. He couldn't possibly have done so. He couldn't have  _ dared _ to put a  _ god _ in a chest. He couldn't have had the  _ audacity _ to use a piece of furniture to trap  _ Death _ in.

The steps seemed to echo as Ares crossed the room, never leaving the furniture with his eyes. It was large, certainly large enough to hold an adult person. Someone like Thanatos. He hoped he was wrong. He felt like he would raze the human world to the ground if he wasn't.

There was a lock. Ares didn't think as he leaned down and grabbed it, crushing the metal in his hand as easily as he would a grape. His heart seemed to hammer in his chest as he tossed the ruined lock to the side. Part of him didn't want to lift the top, and it felt impossibly heavy in his hands.

Time stopped as he got a look at what the chest hid.

The God of Death was tightly curled up, his long hair hiding his face from view, chains enclosing his wrists. Even without touching them, Ares could sense the power emanating from them. Silently, he cursed Hephaestus, because there was no doubt they had been made by his hand.

Carefully, Ares gathered Thanatos in his arms and carried him into the light of the lamp, just as carefully putting him down on the floor. The feeling of trepidation rose in his chest when he saw that what he'd thought were parts of Thanatos' clothing was actually something dried and black making locks of his hair clump together—the blood of a chthonic god. Thanatos' blood. And as he looked the god over, he could see large tears in his clothes and even more spilled blood covering his skin.

But what froze the blood in his veins was that although Thanatos' eyes were open, they were empty, nothing but half-lidded eyes staring into nothingness. Like the eyes of a corpse. Even as Ares cradled his upper body, his head just lolled to the side listlessly. His arms hung unmoving at his sides, fingers brushing the floor. Hadn't it been for the fact that Ares could feel his pulse, he would have thought him dead.

In the corner of his eye, Ares could see Sisyphus looking particularly anxious—though whether it was because of seeing Thanatos' condition or because the fear of retribution had hit him was impossible to tell.

Ares couldn't summon enough effort to care about him at the moment. He only had eyes for the death god, his horror at the state of him making him immobile. Thanatos was strong, kind but firm in all his dealings. He was the cape of inevitable end hanging over all mortals—but where others used his gift of mortality to bring humans to painful and violent ends, his way was the very opposite. Ares had seen him looking on in pain as mortals died, either cursing or praising him. 

He'd also had Thanatos accompany him to battlefields, as he prepared to gather those dying because at the sides of the battles. More than once, he'd heard Thanatos make less than complimentary comments about whoever Ares was cross with, with a small smirk and a too mischievous look in his eye. The patience he showed had always been admirable, something Ares could only dream of reaching. He'd always been good company, always accepted Ares as he was, unlike so many others. That had made him special, in Ares' mind. One of few extraordinary souls. 

He was nothing like this-  _ broken _ husk of a god.

Ares' voice was low as he spoke, the very calm before the storm, gently laying Thanatos fully on the floor. There was resistance to letting go of him. "What did you do to him?"

"My Lord, I swear, he was not like that before… when I last looked upon him."

Slowly, Ares stood up and turned to face Sisyphus. The fury that had shattered was quickly rising again, and he felt his hands tremble by the force he held back. He didn't trust himself to not tear the human apart, so he made himself stand still. First, he needed answers. Then, he could carve retribution from Sisyphus' body until his rage was sated.

Sisyphus' eyes widened as he took in the war god, and he raised his hands as if that could ward off Ares' anger. "The chains! It was the chains that caused this change to happen, I swear to you, I had nothing to do with it."

In a flash, Ares had Sisyphus by the throat, and he didn't hesitate to slam the mortal into the wall. The pained cry soothed him a bit—but not enough. Not nearly. "The key," he said, tightening his grip. A little more and he'd break the human's neck.

"I'll get it," Sisyphus forced out, desperation dripping from every word. Self-serving to the end, doing what he could to stave off his end. It only deepened Ares' disgust.

For a moment, Ares breathed and reminded himself of what was the more important thing, then forced himself to let go, and watched Sisyphus wheeze and cough. But he must have known Ares' wouldn't wait for him to catch his breath, because he quickly stumbled over to one of the shelves, reaching down into one of the vases. The key he pulled out looked by all means ordinary, but Ares could feel it was what he wanted, the completion to Hephaestus' chains. When he held out his hand, Sisyphus quickly dropped the key in it.

Then, without warning, he reached out and snapped the king's neck. Sisyphus fell to the floor in a heap, and Ares looked blandly at him. He wasn't dead, but he was unconscious. For the time being, at least. 

Cradling the key in his hand, Ares hurried back to Thanatos, kneeling next to the unresponsive god. As he touched the first shackle he felt his face contort into a grimace—the power imbued into the chains was clearly meant to suppress and weaken whoever it was holding. Simply touching them made him uneasy, and he had the feeling he knew why death had disappeared from the world.

Quickly, he unlocked the shackle, throwing the accursed thing to the floor. Away from him. Away from Thanatos. The power emanating from it disappeared, but Ares didn't spend any time thinking about it.

He unlocked the second shackle, immediately throwing it aside as well, and it was like the time that had stopped for the death god started running again. Thanatos gasped, his whole body jerking on the floor, and again there was life in those golden eyes. Ares grasped his shoulder, relief threatening to make him weak, and Thanatos' gaze shot to him. For a moment there was recognition, his posture relaxing-

But then his eyes widened, losing any focus, and his body arched, convulsed on the floor as his mouth opened to let out an inhuman scream. The sound seemed to reverberate through the air, through the city, through the world itself, and Ares groaned, hands clasped over his ears, his breath getting caught in his throat as he sensed soldiers die from the wounds they'd obtained, as those with mortal wounds choked on their blood, as victims to violence all over the surface finally fell to the death that should have claimed them—all in one simultaneous moment. It left him dizzy, having to support himself with a hand on the floor. But it didn't prevent him from seeing Thanatos fall back to the floor, like a puppet with its strings cut. His head rolled to the side, but Ares breathed out when he realized the other god must simply have fainted.

Pushing his hair back from his face, Ares took a moment to think through everything that had happened. Death was certainly back in the world, he could feel that all too clear. The balance had returned. Sisyphus had been killed, and soon his shade would be ready to be brought to the Underworld for judgment. The problem left was Thanatos himself.

Studying the unconscious god, Ares frowned. He didn't want to send him off, just yet. Those damn Underworld gods hadn't bothered to search for Thanatos; what evidence did he have that they'd care for him if Ares returned him in such a vulnerable state?

No, it was better that Ares dealt with the situation himself. He'd done that so far, anyway. It would bother him if he didn't follow it to the end.

Having made his decision, Ares rose to his feet and stretched. He wrinkled his nose at the discarded chains, but still walked over and picked them up. The power was still there, but barely noticeable, he thought with a frown. Could it be that he'd felt them so clearly because they had been working hard on keeping Thanatos' influence contained?

Possibly. One day he'd ask Hephaestus—after he'd cursed him out for creating the mess in the first place.

Moving over to the corpse he leaned down, reaching within the human shell to grab the soul therein. Thanatos was Death, and he was the one who slew the mortals—Ares typically dealt with those who had been killed during battles. Their methods to collect souls were inherently different.

The shade he pulled out hadn't yet formed to the shape he'd had as a human, but Ares had no doubt he would, like others with strong senses of self. It would surely happen as soon as he remembered—which, with his body just beneath him, would be very soon. The shade still had arms, and that was all that mattered. While the shade looked around in confusion, getting his bearings, Ares wasted no time and put the chains on him. The pained moan that followed gave him just a small sense of satisfaction.

"Now, then…" he breathed, considering. It would cause immense strain to shift with another person. A shade was nothing, as they were nothing but a thin soul, but a living person had a weight and presence of their own. Taking Thanatos to Olympus was unthinkable in the first place, so he'd have to pick someplace on the surface. Somewhere not too far away, so he could shift them without exhausting all his power.

There was one place, he realized. But unease quickly flooded him, because the very thought of bringing someone else there went against the very reason he had created it in the first place. The island was his hideaway, the sanctuary he retreated to when he couldn't stand even his own followers' company. Wouldn't it be besmirched if he took someone else there?

Then again, Thanatos needed a safe place to recuperate. And Ares had spent a lot of time and effort into making his sanctuary hidden from even Sun's and Night's all-seeing eyes. It certainly met the criteria he was looking for.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Ares dragged his fingers through his hair. If everything ended up going wrong in some way, he'd just have to create a new island. He'd done it before; he could do it again.

Thanatos was limp when Ares gathered him in his arms, and Ares carefully made sure that the death god's head rested securely against his shoulder before he rose again.

Looking back at the miserable shade, Ares wasn't surprised to see that he had returned to his human shape, his stricken face staring down at his old body. When Ares stepped towards him, his head flew up, and Ares almost found it amused how fury flashed across the shade's face before his expression settled into earnest grief. Sisyphus was a trickster, it seemed, even in death.

It was a bit of an effort to maneuver his grip on Thanatos so that he could still hold him securely while freeing a hand, and had he not possessed his godly strength he doubted he would have managed. The shade remained on his knees, most likely thanks to the chains' influence, and Ares took a moment to enjoy the sight of him before he took a firm hold of his hair and focused, and shifted.

The moment he felt the barrier of his own making around him, Ares let go of the shade, stumbling as the exertion of what he'd done hit him. Thanatos slipped in his arms, just a little, but he quickly adjusted his hold, once again using both his hands, and breathed out as he saw his blunder hadn't disturbed the unconscious god.

Barely deigning to look at Sisyphus, Ares raised his hand, creating another, much smaller and hastily crafted barrier around the shade. Once it was done Sisyphus couldn't be seen or heard; only Ares would know he was there. And until such time that Thanatos would take him down to the Underworld, he'd stay locked behind that barrier.

Having finished dealing with Sisyphus, Ares stopped thinking about him and instead turned his focus back on the god in his arms. Once again it ached to see him in such a state, so utterly different from how Ares was used to see him. Weakened. It was not how Death should look, and Ares burned with an abrupt burst of anger at whatever had happened to bring him so low.

When Thanatos woke up again, he'd find out what had transpired, Ares decided and began making his way to the lone building on the small island. He'd built the one-floor residence himself, with few embellishments and only what he thought necessary. The bed was just inside the entrance facing his training area, to make it easier for him to throw himself into it after a good workout—it would make it easier for him to keep an eye on Thanatos as well.

Putting the unconscious god down on the soft skins he'd covered the bed in, Ares paused. Following an impulse, he brushed aside some stray hair that had fallen across Thanatos' face, and simply studied him for a while. There was more blood in his hair than Ares had noticed before, and too much of it staining his skin as well, making it even darker than Ares’ own. He wondered what had happened, what could have caused Death this much harm.

It didn't sit right with him to simply leave Thanatos as he was, so he busied himself with making a fire, heating some water that he could use to wash off the dried blood. It felt awkward, to brush the cloth over Thanatos' skin. Ares was a war god, and those he watched over would always end up dead after a certain amount of battles. Whenever they survived, before they'd reached the point where their strength took too high a toll, they were taken care of by their fellow mortals; Ares, himself, had never partaken in any post-battle rituals. It felt wrong, somehow, to be so gentle in such a way.

But, he continued, using the warm water to meticulously clean Thanatos' body, and the hesitation he'd begun with soon disappeared in the haze that came over him. It became his whole world—wetting the cloth, moving it across Thanatos' skin, rinsing it every so often, and repeating the process. Ares worked, transfixed, carefully maneuvering Thanatos' limbs, holding his arm like it was the most treasured blade while he cleaned his skin, removing his gorget and setting it aside on the floor before gingerly moving the cloth over that suddenly too thin and vulnerable neck, rubbing the long locks and trying not to pull or cause any sort of discomfort. It would have been easier to bathe him and wash the blood from his hair, but Ares couldn’t make himself risk disturbing the other god more than he was. When he finally deemed his work completed the moon rested high on the sky, Night surely keeping her watchful eyes open for her missing son. Ares had no intention of letting her find him.

For a while, Ares simply leaned against the wall and watched the unconscious god, his features barely discernible in the fire's flickering light. Hadn't it been for his tattered clothing, one could have thought Thanatos was simply sleeping. It was both peaceful and disconcerting, and Ares couldn't watch him for too long. Instead, he walked out to the training area and pulled his sword. Mindlessly, he hacked away at the masses of ghostly enemies he created, letting out all of his frustration about the confusing mix of relief and protectiveness he felt when he observed Thanatos, the overwhelming fury he'd felt as he saw the god in chains. A yell grew in his chest until he could hold it back no longer, the force of it blowing away the remaining phantoms. Breathing hard, he rubbed his face and stumbled back into the building, dropping his sword somewhere on the way. A hurried look told him that Thanatos remained dead to the world.

It had been… quite a day, Ares thought as he slid down the wall opposite the bed. There were plenty of more comfortable places to rest, but he found himself unwilling to let Thanatos out of his sight for too long. Resting his arms against his knees, Ares leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He could only guess what would happen next.

Nothing, it turned out.

Thanatos didn't wake up. Ares stayed close to him most of the day, sharpening various weapons when he couldn't sit still any longer—which was, admittedly, pretty fast. His meals were simple, with only the conserved food he had at hand in the kitchen, so he didn't have to go too far from the house. Eventually, however, he couldn't stand the waiting and watching, and he went outside to spar and watch over the various battles taking place all over the surface. It was a relief to see the many deaths, and a piece of him settled as he gave a push here and there to tempt his champions even further into bloodshed. Things were finally back to how they were supposed to be.

Almost, but not quite. He rested on the bench outside and watched night spread across the sky. Perhaps he had been hasty in his decision to keep Thanatos with him. Maybe what the death god needed was something other than rest and time? Maybe what he needed was something Ares couldn't provide? His venerable mother would surely know what would help hasten his recovery. But, even coming to that conclusion, Ares didn't want to give Thanatos up yet. Didn't want to give up and admit that he hadn't known what he was doing.

When the sun rose once again, Thanatos still hadn't woken up. It was harder this time, to stay still—the thoughts and doubts were quicker to show up. Ares wasn't the kind to doubt himself. He was a god of decisiveness, who didn't hesitate, who made his choices and stuck with them no matter the outcome. He didn't  _ doubt. _

And still, he couldn't get rid of the thoughts. So he busied himself: checked the fishing net and salted the fish it yielded; gathered more wood for the fire; sparred with his phantoms, exchanging weapons every so often; orchestrated a few battles here and there. Unbidden, and entirely unasked for, he came to wish for Dionysus' company—the drunken fool always managed to get him on other thoughts, simply by annoying him until he couldn't remember what he'd been angry about before. It would have been a good distraction.

The day seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly. No matter what he did, he couldn't quite erase the presence of the other god at the back of his mind. He kept going over to check on him, his mood worsening ever so slightly every time he saw nothing had changed. In the end, he influenced a king in a minor state to start an unprovoked war with his neighbor, and amused himself watching the greed and bloodlust twist his mind. Much bloodshed would come from that conflict, and Ares would enjoy every drop, every scream. It did much to improve his mood, and for a while, he forgot about the dark thoughts plaguing his mind.

When he ate his dinner, he felt surprisingly cheerful. The hues of the sky as the sun exchanged places with the mood were mesmerizing, reminding him of spilled blood, and he sat outside as he enjoyed it. There was plenty of blood being spilled in a fortress on a nearby island, many of the combatants fighting under his name. Finally, he was suitably distracted, content as he drank his wine.

Distracted enough to not notice the unconscious god stirring. Distracted enough to not sense or even hear as he woke up, as he got up from the bed. But, at the sound of something falling to the floor, Ares shot to his feet, drawing his sword in one fluid movement. All he could think of, even impossibly unlikely as it was, was that an intruder had managed to sneak into the house behind his back. He thought of Thanatos, unguarded and weak, and he dashed into the building with a snarl.

Only to find Thanatos himself on the floor, a terrified look on his face as he pushed his back to the wall, his breathing coming fast and uneven. When he saw Ares, however, relief washed over his face, and Ares could see how he visibly relaxed.

He was too unguarded. He was awake. He was  _ relie _ ved to see Ares. 

No one was ever relieved to see him.

Sheathing his sword again, Ares stared at the other god, still coming to terms with the fact that Thanatos had finally woken up. "You're awake," he said simply.

"I suppose," Thanatos said with a painfully hoarse voice. He frowned, rubbed at his throat, then looked out toward the fire pit burning in front of the house.

Reacting, more than thinking, Ares reached out, taking Thanatos' hand and helping him to his feet, slinging Thanatos' arm over his shoulder when he noticed the other god swaying. The walk out to the simple bench Ares had made so long ago was only a handful of steps, but he walked slowly, letting Thanatos set the pace. When Ares let him down he leaned heavily against the wall, staring up at the sky.

Thinking about how Thanatos' voice had sounded, Ares went to get a cup and filled it with wine. Thanatos accepted the offer with a smile that died almost as soon as it had formed. Sitting down next to him, Ares carefully did not stare while he drank.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after a while, feeling ridiculous as he heard the words exit his mouth. But Thanatos didn't seem to mind.

"I… don't know. Like I'm not fully in my body. Like… I'm dead."

The way he stared into nothing made Ares uneasy. He remembered all too well those dead eyes and how unresponsive Thanatos had been, how he'd seemed more like a corpse than a living person. The look that was darkening Thanatos' face was far too similar.

"I can attest to the fact that you are not," Ares said, more to break the silence than anything else.

At least it worked. Thanatos blinked, and when he looked at Ares that dead look was gone. He took a sip from his cup and seemed to think. "I remember… you got me out, didn't you? I remember seeing your face, before-" With a wince, he stopped himself. Glanced away. "Where are we? If you don't mind. I don't think I recognize this place."

"You wouldn't. This is my island, where no one else has ever set their foot. There would be no reason for you to know it." Seeing Thanatos' alarmed expression, Ares looked away, feeling strangely abashed and hating it. "It was the safest place I could think to bring you. You needed to recuperate in peace."

Thanatos was silent for a while before he spoke again. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"Two days."

"How long…" The following pause was long enough that Ares ventured a glance and found Thanatos staring down at his cup. "How long was I… gone?"

It was hard to tell as a god. Days were like moments, weeks were indistinguishable from months. Years, even decades were hard to remember, once they'd lived long enough. But the period Thanatos asked about was still recent enough, and it hadn't yet gotten lost in the haze of the past. "Months. Around a handful, I would wager."

Thanatos remained silent after that. 

Eventually, Ares couldn't stand the silence any longer. Turning his head he asked, "What happened, Thanatos? How did you get trapped by that mortal?"

He had expected a variety of reactions, but Thanatos' humorless laughter made him frown, as did the ugly smile on his face. Thanatos' hands were clenched tightly around the cup as he leaned forward on his knees, lowering his head. It made his hair fall forward and hide his face from view, and Ares wondered if it was on purpose. "Stupidity. Or, no, arrogance would be more correct. One could just as well say I  _ let _ myself be trapped."

"That sounds nothing like the Death I know," Ares said sharply, his anger quick as ever to rise.

He could hear Thanatos' scoff even if he couldn't see his face. "Perhaps the Death in your mind is nothing like the real thing, then. I made a stupid mistake, and because of that  _ everyone _ had to pay for it."

"You truly are arrogant if you think the world depends on you," Ares sneered, his concern for the other god buried beneath his frustration.

His eyes flashing, Thanatos turned around with a snarl. "Isn't that just it, though? Do you think I don't know what happened when I was lost to this world? The moment I was free I felt it. I  _ felt _ it, felt how twisted this death-less world was becoming. Do  _ you, _ God of War,  _ truly _ dare to say my presence isn't needed?"

For several seconds they stared at each other, Ares fighting the boiling in his veins. He wanted to fight, wanted to push Thanatos against the ground and make him submit, force him to admit Ares was right. But part of him, the part that was reminding him that Thanatos was still recuperating, said that the other god was the one who was in the right. After all, what use  _ was _ War without Death?

Before Ares could fall to either frustration or rationality, the anger disappeared from Thanatos' face. He raised a shaky hand to his face, covering his eyes. "He fooled me. I felt bad about taking him before his time, so when he asked me to I put the shackles on myself, to calm his fears, to show there was nothing to fear. I didn't know that they would affect me—I am a  _ god, _ after all _ — _ but that doesn't matter. It was… a foolish action. I should have known better. I should have known he would try to escape his fate any way he could think of. I shouldn't have been so  _ stupid. _ "

Ares didn't know what to say. It was certainly not what he had expected to hear. At first, he couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that someone would be so reckless to do such a thing. But, then again, he knew Thanatos had always had a soft spot for the mortals and tended to coddle them, in Ares' opinion. He was too kind for his own good—and now he'd had a taste of the consequences of that kindness.

Ares was suddenly furious at that.

"Kindness being taken advantage of isn't something to be ashamed of. The deceiver is the one who should be punished, not you. And this time, the trickster will receive his rightful punishment." He didn't think about how he himself would happily have taken advantage of such a notion. He only thought about someone daring to take advantage of Thanatos.  


Thanatos' smile was fleeting, but the gratitude in it eased some of the anger burning inside of Ares. He leaned forward on his knees, looking up at his companion. "What will you do now? You have woken, and you seem to be getting your bearings rather quick. You must be thinking about your home."

Thanatos froze. The look on his face rubbed Ares wrong, and he looked down at his hands. Trying to sound as casual as he'd been before, he said, "If you feel like you still need rest, you are free to remain here. No one shall bother you, on that, I give my word."

Most gods would have questioned him on that. His word wasn't worth much on Olympus, and he could have bitten his tongue as he heard himself giving it. It was one thing to be met with the distrusting, scornful eyes of his fellow Olympians—only Aphrodite looked kindly on him—but he didn't want to see Thanatos look at him like that as well.

"Are you… if you truly mean that," Thanatos said, hesitating, and Ares felt his gloom evaporating, "then I would accept your offer."

"Naturally. I would not have offered if I did not mean it," Ares responded as he straightened, feeling his lips stretch into an easy smirk. "For as long as you feel the need, you are welcome to rest here."

Thanatos inclined his head, and Ares thought he might have seen some tension leave him. "I thank you, then, Lord Ares."

Ares huffed laughter, his amusement rising at the affronted look Thanatos sent him. "I would prefer if we leave formality out of this. I enjoy your company, Thanatos, and I don't want to put distance between us where none need be."

Thanatos blinked, then nodded, taking another sip of his wine. "Very well, Ares. I'll keep that in mind."

It felt… good, to hear his name being said so casually, as if they were simply having a chat. It signaled a mirror of his own feelings of camaraderie. Thanatos was so proper; if he didn’t feel as such, he surely wouldn’t have acquiesced to Ares’ request. It warmed, much like the fire they sat near.

At his side, Thanatos looked down at himself, frowning deeply. Following his look, Ares was reminded of the state of his tattered clothes, and Ares remembered the state he’d found Thanatos in. Remembered the blood he’d been covered in—and it made him want to hurt someone.

"When I found you," he began, clearly startling Thanatos, "there was blood covering you. Tell me: who dared to put their hand on Death? Was it Sisyphus?"

Thanatos blanched, and he looked away. His hands clenched around his cup, his shoulders hunched—but nothing in his posture spoke of fear. The closest Ares could decipher was shame. He refused to acknowledge it.

"No. No, he didn't. There was a small scuffle, when I first- when I put on the chains. But he didn’t injure me."

"Then, did someone-"

"I don't want to talk about it." The curt voice cut through the air. Ares frowned but remained silent. Waiting. And, as expected, soon enough Thanatos sighed and glanced at him. "I… sorry. Uh… you must have… thank you. For… cleaning me."

"You are most welcome," Ares responded magnanimously. He still burned with righteous fury as well as curiosity, but he would allow Thanatos his secrecy. For now.

Thanatos sighed, draining the last of the wine Ares had given him. "I don't want to sound impertinent, but is there a chance you have some food available? I find myself rather… famished."

"After not eating for as long as you have, I’m surprised your first instinct when you woke up wasn’t to eat," Ares said with a chuckle. "I have bread and fish at the ready. If you give me some time I will prepare more dishes."

"Please," Thanatos quickly said, his hand raised, "there’s no need to trouble yourself. Fish is more than enough. To be honest, I don’t think my stomach is ready for much more than that. I would rather be careful than partake too much."

Nodding, Ares rose to his feet. "That’s a wise thought. I understand; I will get you some food. Please, stay here. You need rest."

Without waiting for the protest he knew would come, Ares walked with brisk steps back into the house. His back hid the way he smiled when he heard Thanatos’ annoyed huff. Thanatos could be as stubborn as he wanted—Ares would prove he was even more stubborn. Not to mention he could move unhindered, while Thanatos could barely walk.

They talked at leisure while Thanatos ate, with him asking questions about the island and its construction, and Ares answering. The conversation turned to their various kin, with Thanatos complaining about his twin's unwillingness to put any effort into his work, and Ares scoffing at the way his family all believed themselves better than each other, but all trying to hide it. It was much more preferable to be open about it, he argued. Thanatos wondered idly if Ares held the same belief as his kin; Ares only answered with a wolfish grin.

Neither of them slept that night. Ares was certain Thanatos had slept enough for some time, and he was too full of energy himself to even consider it. It was a thrill to converse with the death god, someone who seriously regarded everything he said and either agreed or argued against him. Thanatos didn't enjoy his pleasure in brutal bloodshed, but he didn't show any disgust as they discussed the various conflicts Ares had started. Unlike many others, he didn’t look queasy, just continued sipping his wine easily.

And, then, Ares found the day to hold so much more promise when he suggested Thanatos come along to one of his battles someday, only to find out Thanatos didn't fight. Barely knew how to, in fact. He never needed to, he argued, since he only reaped mortals.

That, naturally, was not something Ares could simply abide.

Thanatos could once again stand and move with no problems, so Ares saw no reason to take it easy. The fact that Death couldn't fight was ludicrous, and he was hell-bent on fixing that while he had the opportunity. The few protests Thanatos offered were only half-hearted, anyway.

There was an urgency in wanting Thanatos to be able to fight,  _ needing _ him to, that Ares wasn't sure the origins of.

It didn't take long to decide on teaching him how to handle the sword, as it was unlikely to interfere with him using his scythe. He could have it strapped to his belt at all times, within easy reach during any surprise attacks. Besides, it wouldn't be too hard for him to quickly grasp the basics. And, as expected, within only a few hours he'd already progressed far beyond what any inexperienced person would have achieved. Thanatos worked hard, with the same look of calm determination he had when he slew mortals.

Of course, Ares wouldn't have expected anything else. Thanatos was a god; how could his efforts be compared in any way to a mortal's. With glee, Ares soon involved himself, sparring with Thanatos over the next few days and watching how he learned. After all, there was no better teacher than experience, and Ares was more than happy to provide it.

But sparring wasn't all they did to make the days pass. No matter how much he enjoyed it, Ares knew not to push too much too quickly. Mostly. When he saw Thanatos' stamina getting too low and he started making careless mistakes, he ended the training for the day, despite Thanatos' protests. His will to continue was certainly impressive, but a soldier who didn't know how to parse themselves would end up dying far too early. Ares much preferred those who lasted longer and shed more blood; they were far more interesting to follow.

He wasn't surprised when Thanatos asked if there was something else he could do—he could tell it bothered the other god to do nothing, and so he offered a variety of tasks, the first of which was to try and mend his clothes. When it proved beyond either of their abilities, however, Ares gave him one of his chitons and a belt. It felt beyond strange, to see him in anything but the dark and golden clothes he always wore. At least there was a small sense of normalcy to see Thanatos putting on his gorget again, the gold looking natural on him in a way the white chiton didn't.

The island Ares had created was separate from the world around it; unlike the autumn slowly draining the rest of the surface, the weather was as he willed it. They fished, salting or enjoying their catch grilled along with freshly picked chestnuts. The small forest covering the west side of the island had small game to hunt and lots of fruit to gather. In the kitchen, Ares had plenty of wine, as well as a small number of nectar bottles, that he liberally shared. It seemed to take the edge of Thanatos' desperate need to do something, and a week after he'd woken up he could spend the evening idly watching the sky, either chatting with Ares or resting in silence while Ares spread his consciousness across the surface in search of anything interesting. He did not sleep.

It was a peaceful existence, far more so than anything Ares could have imagined he'd enjoy. And it had to end.

Thanatos himself the one who, when they were resting after sparring, sighed and shook his head, pushing his hair behind his ear. "It's time."

Ares didn't need to ask what he meant. There had been a feeling, gradually growing, and he'd found himself waiting for Thanatos to say something. He'd refused to do it himself. "I hope you'll continue your training even if I'm not there to keep you on your toes. I will be checking on your progress whenever we meet."

Thanatos huffed and leaned back on his hands, squinting as he looked around. It was something Ares had noticed he did a lot during the day; he'd been considering making a hat to shield him from the sun. Turned out he took too long to decide.

"I'll have so much work to catch up to that I likely won't be able to rest for months, much less train with something I surely won't be needing. But since it matters so much to you, I will do my best to find the time."

Ares chuckled and clapped Thanatos' shoulder. "That is all I require from you. Your best far surpasses most others', so I don't doubt there will come a time soon when you will have become a truly challenging opponent."

Thanatos shot him a small, crooked smile. It died quickly, however, as he looked down at his feet with a frown. "Well, then. It has… been a pleasure, Ares. I thank you for your generous hospitality, and I hope we will meet soon again."

When Thanatos stood up, Ares mirrored him. "If you ever find yourself in need of some peace, you can always come here. Know that the island will always welcome you."

Thanatos inclined his head, staying silent for a while. Then, with a troubled look, he rubbed his arm and looked to the south. "I have one job left to finish here. I need you to take down the barrier."

Ares felt a flash of anger at the thought of the shade. "You can sense him? I had hoped his presence had been entirely erased."

Swallowing hard, Thanatos shrugged. "I am connected to every mortal I will and already have touched. But your barrier made it far easier to ignore him, and… I thank you for that." He huffed a chuckle. "I have much to thank you for."

Ares began walking towards where the shade was, simply to avoid Thanatos' gaze. He could hear the other god following him. "Someone had to do something. I was just the first one to tire of the state of my domain."

"Naturally."

There was amusement in Thanatos' voice, and Ares rolled his eyes. But he couldn't find it in him to object. He simply walked, slowing down just a little to let Thanatos catch up and walk at his side.

It was obvious, to Ares' displeasure, how increasingly tense Thanatos grew as they neared the barrier. His back was ramrod straight, his face set in a slight frown. He didn't look all too tense—on the contrary, he looked much like how Death should look at he prepared to take his due—but Ares could too easily see the changes in him as they walked. It wasn't his place to try and do something about it, however much he found himself wanting to.

They didn't speak as Ares took down the barrier, revealing Sisyphus. They'd already said what they had to. With Sisyphus' arm in a tight grip, Thanatos looked at Ares one last time—and then he was gone in a gust of green smoke.

Ares crossed his arms again, staring at the spot Thanatos had disappeared from. Looked in toward the island, at the forest, at the house. It all seemed so small, yet so big at the same time. It was too quiet.

With a scowl, he shifted back to Olympus.

**Author's Note:**

> So, as always, if you want lots of retweeted art (SFW and NSFW alike) and.... other stuff, who even knows nowadays, but def fandom art, come find me at [twitter](https://twitter.com/tveckling)~


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